Chapter Text
Thomas found himself in a room. it seemed like a cartoon studio. there was black ink dripping everywhere. suddenly, he was pulled by the arm into a hallway. he turned to see who (or what) had pulled him. he saw a man. he had splotches of ink on his clothes and skin. his brown hair was messy and stuck out in every direction. he had glasses that were way beyond repair. his brown eyes were almost black. he was wearing a black button-up shirt with no tie. he was wearing black jeans as well. it was impossible to tell what color his sneakers were because they had long been stained with ink.
"what are you doing here? it's not safe." the man said looking around. "and most importantly, how did you get here? no one has been able to get in since..." he stopped. he had frozen in place. he quickly shook off whatever had been affecting him and turned back to Thomas. Thomas now had ink on his shoes and a few splotches on his clothes, though, that was the least of his concerns. what was this place? and how did he get there?
"i-i have no idea," Thomas said in response to the man's question. "who are you, and what is this place?" Thomas asked confused. one second he was in his home, the next he was wherever here was. it was a rather frightening place.
"you are in the miro," he responded. " I am logan. one of the only good souls left here," he said. he looked down as if pained by the memory of a lost loved one. "everyone was corrupt but me."
"I'm Thomas. and who was corrupted by what?" Thomas asked. before logan could answer, a shard of glass hit the wall. it barely missed their heads.
"Welcome to the miro!" a cheery voice said.